If You Only Knew
by Memories Left Abandoned
Summary: AU. At seventeen years old, Ziva is desperate to prove herself to someone, to anyone. Nothing ever turns out the way one expects.
1. Take A Chance On Me

_If you're all alone_

_When the pretty birds have flown_

_Honey, I'm still free,_

_Take a chance on me…_

ABBA—Take A Chance On Me

--

September 2nd. It was a Saturday.

It was the day that changed my life forever.

--

"Hello, Tony," I greeted him, and he pulled me into his arms for a quick hug before we walked together into school.

"Hey, Ziv," he answered, his arm left casually around my shoulder. For just a moment I let my head fall against his shoulder, trying not to imagine anything more than friendship—God knew he didn't—and then I pulled away.

Encountering the rest of our friends, he dropped his arm, and I allowed myself to miss the weight. "Hello, Kate. Abby. Tim." I gave each girl a brief hug and nodded my head to Tim, who still wasn't quite comfortable touching friends who are girls.

Of course, the moment I had finished hugging her, Abby half-attacked Tony in a hug. I looked away and tried not to let my face color in jealousy.

"That's the one thing about summer that I hate," said Kate. "We never get to see each other."

"Ugh, agreed," said Abby, who had apparently finished her assault on Tony. "We need to hang out more."

"We were together every weekend," said Tony.

"But not every day!" said Abby with a giggle, and I had to look away again.

It wasn't that I didn't like Abby—her quirky style and peppy attitude is contagious even to those who dislike Goths. I just…wished she wasn't all over Tony. All the time.

I could have used a lesson in sharing.

Besides, I had reasoned to myself countless times, it wasn't like these girls were really my friends. They only tolerated me because Tony liked me, and they were both enamored with him. Tim seemed to like me, too, or at least he didn't hate me like most.

The beautiful foreigner, too smart for her own good. That was what I had been labeled upon entering Capital High School in Washington, D.C, halfway through junior year. Upon realizing that simply because I was Israeli did not mean I was stupid, I was placed in all AP classes, where I encountered wide eyes and distrusting whispers. Before I could blink, everyone knew my father was the Israeli ambassador and that I was richer than most of them combined.

Embarrassed, I kept my head down and stayed out of the way…at least until Tony found me.

Anthony DiNozzo was—and probably would have continued to be, had it not been for senior year—the school's class clown, and one of the most popular boys in school. On top of that, he was fairly smart. Smart enough to be in my AP Calculus class, anyway. Not smart enough to understand what was going on.

One day, about a month after my arrival, I was late leaving class because my folder had accidentally "fallen" on the floor. With a sigh, I resigned to pick it up, but my hand found another already at the task.

"Here," said the boy, who I knew and couldn't understand why he was talking to me. "Dropped?"

"Not by me," I said quietly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I lifted my bag onto my shoulder and began to leave, Tony behind me all the while.

"Did you understand the lesson?" he asked quietly. "I thought I had it, but when I checked my answers, they were all wrong."

I looked up and was surprised to find his eyes earnestly meeting mine. "Let me take a look."

"Thanks," he said with a grateful smile. He held out his paper and I reviewed it as we walked to our next class. After a moment, I found the problem and explained it to him.

"Oh," he said, a goofy grin on his face, as though he couldn't believe his own stupidity. "I get it. Thanks a lot—Ziva, right?"

"Right," I answered, a little surprised.

"I gotta go, Ziva," he said.

And without another word, he headed off to his next class.

I thought for certain he would never speak to me again, but the next day he sat next to me in Calc. And then the next day. And then the next. By the end of the week, I'd given him my phone number so he could call with any questions he had. By the end of the next week I was sitting with him, and his friends, at lunch.

Tim was the polar opposite of Tony—he was a total nerd. Already taking mostly college classes when I met him, he mostly stuck to himself, only occasionally putting in a comment. He had first become friends with Tony through Abby. Abby, the oxymoron in living color, had become friends with Tony through Kate Todd, the final member of our lunch table. Kate and Tony had been childhood friends, and Kate was probably the only girl in school who could keep Tony in check.

Anyway.

Presently, we headed to the office to pick up our schedules for the year. I was dismayed to discover I only had lunch with Tony the first half of the year and nothing with him second semester. I did have a single class—AP English Literature—with Tim, along with lunch, and nothing but lunch with either Kate or Abby.

"At least we all have lunch together," said Kate as we left the office.

"First semester, anyway," said Abby. "Then Tony here's gotta go and leave us." She fake-punched him in the arm (a ritual I still didn't understand.)

"So not my fault, Abbs," he said, a grin lighting his features. "Gotta have a study hall for basketball season."

"Why?" asked Kate, although we all knew the answer.

"Weight room," said Tony, turning on the charm for a girl walking by, who blushed.

I tried not to roll my eyes.

The warning bell rang, signaling the end of our time together. Briefly Tony gave a hug to Kate and Abby, and lastly myself, and I couldn't help but think that maybe he held me just a bit longer…? Maybe not.

He headed off to his first period, anatomy, and I headed the other way to Spanish, wondering all the while if I would ever get a chance.

A/N: Very little plot here, I know. It'll start soon. Enjoy this nonsense in the meantime.

A/N 2: I know I suck at updating. Sorry =/ Dear Death…may or may not be finished over Christmas break. So. Happy holidays, btw.


	2. Six Feet Under The Stars

_We'll hit South Broadway in a matter of minutes_

_And like a bad movie, I'll drop a line_

_Fall in the grave I've been digging myself,_

_But there's room for two six feet under the stars_

All Time Low—Six Feet Under the Stars

--

"Ser, subjunctive tense. Zih-vuh Day-vid.."

The teacher botched my name, as I have come to expect from those who don't know me. I sighed and answered without correcting her. "Sea, seas, sea. Seamos, seáis, sean."

"Very good. Tener, past subjunctive tense. Laura Johnson"

Roll call continued in this way for a few minutes while I zoned. First period and AP class did not mix well for me, I could already tell. My brain simply was not awake.

"It's vendran, don't forget the stem change. Ir, preterite tense. Michael Rivkin."

I couldn't help it; I looked up. There, sitting right across the row from me, was the most popular kid in our grade…in any grade. My first thought…_what is he even doing here?_

"Fui, fuiste, fue, fuimos, fuisteis, fueron."

_He actually knew that?_ I questioned internally. Awkwardly I looked over to find him smiling at me without a hint of condescension.

_Weird,_ I decided. Then I let it go.

--

"Ugh!" announced Abby with a dramatic sigh. I looked up as she sat down with her lunch tray. "Thank God we've got lunch together. I have no idea what I'd do without you."

For an odd moment, I believed this comment to be directed at me, and as I stumbled for an appropriate response I felt Tony's presence at my side.

"It's the first day, Abs," he answered. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"All the weirdos are in my classes!" she whined. I tried not to smile at the irony. "They're all depressed and emo…and they smell. It's gross!"

Tony just rolled his eyes. "How about you, Ziv?"

"Not terrible," I answered. "First period AP class, though."

"Ew," said Kate, sitting down next to Abby. "AP classes are bad enough as it is, but having one first period…"

"It could be worse," said Tim, sitting down on Abby's other side. "You could have gym first period."

We all decided this was easily the worse of the two tortures.

"Anyway, it's our senior year," said Tony. "Nothing can go wrong this year."

"That's a little overstated," said Kate, and Tim looked ready to agree.

"You know what he means," said Abby.

"Thank you, Abby."

"You're welcome."

A few moments of quiet passed while everyone began to eat. I sighed down at my own meal and, after a moment, resigned myself to eating it. I took a single bite of the wrap and put it back down. Tony looked at me.  
I pushed it toward him. "Tomorrow, we're going out."

He laughed and placed it on his own tray.

--

I soon discovered that lunch was pretty much the only good thing about my day.

English wasn't terrible, since at least I was friends with someone in the class, and I could usually tune out the others in Spanish. The rest of my classes, however, were required nonsense that I had to have if I intended on graduating. Required, apparently, is code for stupid, and by senior year only those who hadn't passed before remained in the class.

Had it not been for lunch, I probably would never have made it through the first week.

Fortunately the week passed fairly quickly and with a small workload, and I had hardly blinked before Friday appeared.

"Happy September," said Abby cheerfully as sat down at the local Burger King—the restaurant was Tony's choice that day.

"If by happy, you mean welcome back to school, here's a ton of work from all your teachers, then sure," said Tony bitterly.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I thought nothing could go wrong this year, Tony," I said, a bit cheekily. Kate smirked at him.

"That was before my every single one of my teachers decided to dump pointless homework on me," he said darkly.

"Really?" I questioned. "I have a pretty light load so far."

"Me, too," said Kate.

"And me," supplied Abby. The three of us smirked.

Tony scowled. "I hate you all."

"If by hate, you mean love, then sure," Abby said with a giggle.

"Whatever." He took a bite of his hamburger. "Besides, I plan on relaxing this weekend."

"It's the first week, Tony!" said Kate.

"Yeah, which means back-to-school parties," said Tony. "First one's tomorrow night. You guys going?"

"As if I would miss a party," said Abby. "Kate?"

"If only to keep you two in line."

"Tim?" Abby directed to him.

"I don't think so," he said, looking doubtfully at the rest of us.

"Oh, come one, Timmy," she said. She placed a hand under his chin, surprising us all. "Please?"

"Who could say no to that face, McGee?" said Tony with a laugh.

"Fine," he said, and Abby cheered. "But if you leave me for a second—"

"I won't, I swear," promised the Goth.

"Ziva?" asked Tony.

I frowned. "I'm not really one for the party scene."

"Oh, come on," he said. "It's not an intense one, anyway. Cody's parents will be there. No drinking, no drugs. It'll be fun."

I looked thoughtfully at my chicken. Sighing, I picked up a piece. "Maybe."

I went.

--

A/N: Again, there's not a whole lot of plot here, and this chapter is shorter than normal. Sorry. Next chapter, I promise it'll pick up. Happy Christmas Eve Eve =)


	3. Wonderwall

_So I said maybe,_

_You're gonna be the one that saves me,_

'_Cause after all,_

_You're my wonderwall..._

"Wonderwall" by Cartel

--

As it turned out, Tony had been wrong about the party. Cody's parents went out-of-town on a last minute business trip, and so what should have been a light "season opener" was later regarded as one of the best parties of the year.

It figures as much.

The bass was booming and I could hear the music from a few blocks away, which was an instant sign that it was probably not as Tony had predicted. I thought about turning, but he was expecting, and if McGee had shown up, he would be alone. Sighing, I continued to walk toward the party.

Upon entering, I was immediately offered a drink, which I declined. I hadn't planned on staying long, especially since I was then sure that parents were not in attendance. I saw Abby in a corner with a few other people I knew, none of whom were dressed as she was. In what I could only assume was her party attire, she was wearing a black-and-neon green argyle sweater vest over a black button up shirt, which she paired with a short black pleated skirt and knee high neon green socks. The oddest thing to me was that she was still flirting with pretty much every guy around her.

With a sigh, I continued on, hoping to find Tim or Tony. Tony was nowhere in sight, though I did spot Kate chatting with a few other of the more popular girls. Either she did not see me, or she didn't acknowledge. I finally found Tim in a corner by himself, looking furiously at a portable game system.

"Hello, Tim," I greeted, grabbing a chair from nearby and pulling it over.

"Hold on." He pressed more buttons, and I glanced over. I had no idea what he was playing, but whatever it was, it involved a lot of shooting. I looked pointedly away.

He got to the end of his level and set it down on his knee. "Sorry about that. Hello, Ziva."

"I thought Abby promised not to leave you?" I asked.

"She always does."

I looked curiously at him. "She is not here."

"She never is."

I frowned. "That does not seem like a very nice thing to promise. Why do you come?"

He sighed and his face reddened in embarrassment. "She asked me to come. So I came."

I opened my mouth to respond, and then it hit me. I quickly closed my mouth and looked away.

He sighed. "It's okay, Ziva. Pretty much everyone knows except Abby. Or maybe she does know..."

I glanced over at him, and he was avoiding my eye. "She wouldn't use you like that, Tim. She doesn't much like me, but she is your friend. She does not know."

"I don't think she doesn't like you, Ziva," he answered. "I think she's a little jealous that she's not the only object of Tony's affection anymore."

I was unsure how to take that, so I didn't respond to that. "Speaking of Tony, have you seen him?"

"Isn't that him right there?"

And sure enough, there he was. He was dancing on top of a table in time with the increasingly loud music. He looked foolish to me, but everyone else seemed to be cheering him on, some laughing, most shouting.

"He cannot be that drunk already," I observed.

"He probably hasn't had anything to drink yet," said Tim. "He says he doesn't drink until at least eleven at parties, and only if he's staying over at the person's house afterward."

"I am glad he has principles regarding that," I answered sarcastically.

Suddenly Tony noticed me too, and hopped off the table, much to the dismay of the large crowd surrounding him. He parted the people and walked up to me, sitting of the arm of my chair.

"Hey, Ziva!" he greeted, a little breathlessly. "Why didn't you come say hi before?"

"I have only been here a few minutes," I answered. "I had not yet seen you, but I see how you were occupying yourself before."

He laughed a little, throwing a crooked grin in my face for good measure. My stomach dropped a bit. "You wanna dance?"

"I am not a very good dancer," I confessed. "American dancing is something I have not attempted yet."

"Oh, c'mon, Zi," he said. "I can teach you."

"In front of everyone?" I asked doubtfully. "These people already dislike me enough, imagine if I started dancing. I would never live it down. I would be the terrorist...who cannot dance."

"You're overexaggerating," he said. He grabbed my hand and pulled up, and my stomach fell away even more. "Please?"

I glanced over at Tim, and he gave me a smug smile. I shook my head at him and turned back to Tony. "I guess. But...do not leave me."

"I won't, Ziv. I promise." He led me through the crowd by the hand, and I only got a few odd looks. One of the best things about Tony was that no one questioned him, so when I was with him, no one questioned me.

We found a nearly empty corner, and he looked expectantly at me.

"Um..." I said awkwardly. "I really have no idea how to do this."

He smiled a little at my hesitation. "Alright. Pretty much all you do is stand up against me and rock your hips back and forth."

"That seems...odd," I said.

"It's not so bad once you start doing it." He grabbed my shoulders and directed me to the right position, and then we started dancing. He was right—once I got the hang of it, it was actually...really...okay, it was still weird. But it was Tony, and I couldn't just stop, could I?

"You're not so bad at this," he said into my ear after a minute, which had the combined effect of scaring me and making me move closer to him. I didn't respond—my heart was beating too fast for me to breathe.

The song ended, and it switched to a slower song, one I recognized as something by Cartel. I began to turn around when Abby appeared, smiling brightly.

"Wanna dance, Tony?"

He looked at her and looked back at me. I expected him to say 'Sorry, Abs, I was gonna dance with Ziva.' Or, 'Sorry, Abs, I'm not much of a slow dancer.' Or even, 'Sorry, Abs, I'd rather go dance with Tim.'

Instead he looked at me. "You mind?"

What could I have said? Abby looked at me expectantly, and I shook my head.

"No," I said quietly. "Go ahead."

"Thanks, Ziva!" she answered, and, before I could blink, she'd grabbed his hand, and they were gone.

I looked at the spot where he had been, and I remembered how hard my heart had been beating moments before.

"So much for that," I said to myself. I turned around, intending to leave, and ran abruptly into Michael Rivkin, who spilled a bit of his drink on me.  
"I am so sorry," I apologized in horror. I tried to gather myself, and he laughed a little.

"Relax, Ziva."

I wasn't expecting him to know my name. "Um. I can get you another drink, if you want."

"I can get it," he answered. "You want one?"

I began to answer, and then I cut myself off. I looked a little wistfully at Tony and Abby, who had appeared again near the edge of the dance floor. They were standing closer than necessary, and he was whispering into her ear, and she was smiling back.

I looked back at Michael. "Sure. I guess."

We headed over toward the bar.

--

A/N: So I've had intense writer's block for two and a half weeks, and then I sit down today, and my block poofs, and I write this in like, half an hour. That's about right =/ So...some devolopment here, I think. Ha. I like reviews better than chocolate 'cause reviews are fat free...so you should leave me one. Haha.

Also, if you read National Treasure and don't mind slash, I'd love if you could pop over and read In Search of Solid Ground. Unfortunately, no one really reads NT, so I haven't gotten any reviews yet. You rock )


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